


Summons

by Zordosia (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Death, Gen, Let Eliza be the Beautiful Eldritch Monster she was always meant to be, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Zordosia
Summary: Of the old winged djinn families, the Schuylers were the most likely to trick you. A Washington would dutifully fulfill their end of the deal and then rain hellfire on your house, a Laurens would come streaking down on behalf of an ally with an army at their back. But a Schuyler would listen to you politely, set out the terms of the contract, and then sink the knife into your back. A Washington you could defend against, a Laurens you could fight back. But a Schuyler would always get their way and moreover, would make sure you regretted ever thinking you were a match for them.





	Summons

Of the old winged djinn families, the Schuylers were the most likely to trick you. A Washington would dutifully fulfill their end of the deal and then rain hellfire on your house, a Laurens would come streaking down on behalf of an ally with an army at their back. But a Schuyler would listen to you politely, set out the terms of the contract, and then sink the knife into your back. A Washington you could defend against, a Laurens you could fight back. But a Schuyler would always get their way and moreover, would make sure you regretted ever thinking you were a match for them.

But the Schuylers had opened the doors of the tombs of kings when no other djinn family could. And Aaron was desperate. And so he placed one drop of water from each of the seven seas on his altar.

He came from two long lines of sorcerers, but even he had had trouble finding out about the Schuylers. He supposed that given their reputation it made sense that they had been able to haggle and trick their way into as many texts as they could find that carried their name, desperately destroying the roads that humans had built.

But Aaron was wealthy and precocious and suddenly much more sympathetic. And so eventually, the librarians lost their suspicious looks and set down their weapons and led him to the most fortified parts of their libraries.

He placed three dried maple leaves in his family’s most expensive mortar, the one carved from ivory. The summoning spell was surprisingly simple, really. The only really difficult part had been the pestle. The first two books he had read had said he needed an ancient bone, ten thousand years old at the least. But the third book he read was in the original Arabic, and he discovered it was a translation error. What was needed was a bone with meaning to the summoner.

There had not been much flesh left on the tibia when he removed it, but Aaron still carefully washed and dried it, to ensure that there would be no contamination. Then he crushed the leaves into a fine powder and spread it across the altar.

He set eight candles out in a line in front of the altar, lit them all, and then placed one directly in front of him. As he lit it, he said in a steady voice, just like his parents had taught him, “I summon the jinni Elizabeth Schuyler.”

He had chosen her out of all of them because he had heard she was gentle. But the blue fire that consumed the room was ferocious, burning nothing but letting off a terrible heat. Aaron’s eyes stung and watered and his ears were ringing and every instinct he had was screaming for him to shield himself, but he forced himself to stay on his knees, eyes open and wide, hands clasped. The fire disappeared, and then a pillar of it erupted in front of him. When it dissipated, what looked like a woman in a simple blue dress stood in front of him, looking down with her hand stretched out to her side.

She looked up with a confused expression on her face and Aaron did not let it show but he felt the same. The winged djinn were supposed to be inhuman, making no effort to hide the smokeless fire that made up their being and, well, winged. But she must have simply not been used to being summoned, because she quickly turned impassive. Her eyes began to burn with blue flame, then multiplied across her skin. She grew, and the room became darker as she burned brighter, and two pairs of wings sprouted from her back, enshrouding her, then became freckled with eyes, all staring at Aaron.

The first thing every sorcerer learned was to never say anything more to a jinni than what you absolutely had to, because as long as they were bound to you, your words were their best and only ammunition. So Aaron waited a few beats, running over what he planned to say in his head, checking for loopholes and traps. Finally, he said, “My sister.”

Eliza looked at the bed behind him, and at the body in the bed.

“I need her alive,” Aaron said. Steady, steady. “She’s the only family I have left. I need you to give her life.”

Eliza walked past him to the bed. She spread out her wings and laid her four hands— when had she gotten new arms— on Sally’s body.

Sally’s body erupted into blue flames.

Aaron stared in horror. Surely this was just djinn magic. All the djinn he had summoned, he had never had them do something like this, so this must be normal. He had made himself so clear, he had been so careful—

_Life doesn’t discriminate, between the sinners and the saints—_

He fell onto his hands, his eyes shut tight. “No, Elizabeth Schuyler, please, she’s my sister—“

The room became suddenly cool. Aaron stood up and turned to face the bed. The fire was gone and Elizabeth was looking down at his sister. 

Sally sat up and looked at him. Her eyes were full of blue fire.


End file.
